by Jacie Floyd
“One-handed? I don’t think so.” In the bathroom, he pinned her arm firmly between them, peering at the wound as he cleaned and disinfected it with the supplies she handed him. “Does it need stitches?”
“No,” she said, in a high thin voice she wouldn’t have recognized as hers.
“Okay.” His nod of understanding that only flustered her more.
She looked up in time to see a flicker of interest in his eyes, deep and inviting, as if he intended to wrap her inside his heat and never let her go. He must have looked at a thousand women that way, but he had never looked at her that way. No one ever had.
While her head spun with the possibilities, she thought he was bending over her arm for an up-close inspection of her wound. Instead, he nearly sent her through the roof when he pursed his lips and blew on it.
“Don’t!” Less worried about germs than about her skyrocketing heart rate, she jumped back and bumped her head on the door. “Ow.”
God, why was she so awkward and bad at this? She didn’t excel at physical relationships at the best of times. Responding to any move by Dylan when her defenses dipped so low would be the height of insanity.
Especially after the devastating way her relationship with Baxter had ended. Any scraps of sexual self-confidence that remained after her experience with him would be destroyed by one cross-eyed look, laugh, or smirk from Dylan.
“I’m sorry you got hurt.” His lips grazed her wrist so feather-light she couldn’t be positive he’d kissed it. Surely he hadn’t. Had he? Did he have no understanding of diseases transmitted through bodily fluids?
“Not your fault.” Removing her arm from his grasp, she held it against her chest. She tried to ease away from him, but he took another step closer, trapping her body between his and the sink.
“It was my cabin.”
“You didn’t start the fire.” The fire chief’s arson theory did seem like the most reasonable explanation.
“Someone with a grudge against me or my family did, which still makes me responsible.”
“You don’t think it was someone local, do you?” She wanted to take her mind off the thoughtful way he watched her. But every time she remembered the floor collapsing under his feet, shivers racked her. “If someone was angry about your family closing the factory, why wait until now to get revenge? And wouldn’t the factory building have been a more suitable target?”
“Maybe in all my bungling around this week, I offended someone more than I realized.”
Did he realize that his fingers stroked the inside of her arm? “Wh-who?”
“If I knew, I’d be out there ripping them a new one for putting you in danger.”
Simmering anger surged to life in his eyes. For him to be so angry on her behalf stunned her. He reached for her then, and every living tissue in her body shouted yes!
He was all wrong for her, but he was here and he was the one she wanted. She wanted to run her hands down his body and take his mouth with hers. She wanted to slide against his skin, to feel him inside her, to forget about fire and destruction and near death experiences.
“I thought you didn’t want me,” she confessed as he closed the gap between them.
“Not want you?” His chuckle caressed her cheek. “I’ve only known you for three days, but I’ve wanted you forever.” Caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers, he stroked down her jaw to the hollow at the base of her neck.
Even as Gracie drowned in his words and touch, an inner voice whispered caution. She inched away from him. “You managed to stop earlier.”
“My mistake.” He pulled her in close. “I wanted to wait to be with you until everything was perfect. But when the cabin went up in flames, I thought, you’re perfect, Gracie. To hell with everything else.” He kissed her chin. “When you jumped out the window, I promised myself that if we made it out safely, the very first thing I was gonna do afterward was make love to you.”
“Don’t I have anything to say about it?” she asked around the lick of his tongue. What if they made love and she disappointed him? She couldn’t live with the humiliation or disappointment.
“You’re the only one who does.” He cradled her head in Neosporin-scented hands. His fingers tunneled beneath the towel and massaged their way along her scalp, sending tingles rippling down her spine.
“You say stop, we stop. But nothing else in this world will keep me from having you right here. Right now. Not raccoons, fires, acts of God, nuclear bombs, or even your grandmother at your door will be able to distract me.” His mouth flirted with hers in a kiss so brief, so gentle she nearly screamed in frustration. “Will they?”
Sensitized in a way she’d never experienced and drained by the effort to hold herself in check, she whispered her answer. “No, they won’t.”
Dylan kissed her then. The kiss was urgent, demanding, hard, telling her with his body, his hands, and his mouth that there would nothing tentative or polite between them. Not tonight, anyway.
Clenching his shirt, she drew him nearer. His hands trailed down her back and cupped her bottom. When he slid his thigh between her legs, she pressed against him. The pressure made her hot, wet, and hungry for more.
Stumbling toward the bedroom, they tripped on the clothes that fell to the floor along the way. He rolled her onto the bed, twisting to catch her weight on top of him. His gaze moved over her, his eyes dark and excited. Appreciative.
That look made her feel beautiful and desirable. It gave her confidence. She rubbed against him, creating a friction between the smoothness of her skin and the crinkly hair on his chest that made her shiver.
And then, he moved. Moved his hands on her. His body against hers. He never stopped moving, never stopped touching her everywhere—stomach, breast, knee, thigh. More, more, she needed more.
She needed to touch him as he touched her.
The corded muscles of his shoulders and back rippled as she stroked her hands across them. Every part of him felt like polished steel. His breath caught when she ran her fingers across his stomach. Her tongue across his nipple brought forth her name on a groan.
He took her nipple in his mouth and pulled urgently. Sensation shot through her like wildfire. The need to be completely naked or spontaneously combust expanded inside her. She shoved off her panties, and he slipped his finger against her heat. Stoking the fire. Finding her moistness. Slick, slippery. Ready. She groaned and pressed against his hand, eager and breathless.
He stood to shuck off his jeans then returned to her gloriously naked, his erection standing proud. She wanted to look at him, to memorize him—the most beautiful, perfect man she’d ever seen, long limbed and muscular. He dropped down beside her and immediately licked down her stomach. Then lower.
“Finally.” He breathed against her, heating her up before separating her folds with his tongue. He nibbled, he sucked—oh, God—sensation rippled through her as he brought her to the brink.
Not yet, she wanted to protest, don’t let it be over, but she couldn’t create coherent words. She could only moan his name.
He didn’t let up, building the waves of pleasure, pulling her toward climax, demanding her trust. Taking her as far as she could go. Farther than she’d ever been before. His mouth stayed on her to the last ripple, to the final incredible convulsion.
Every tense muscle in her body relaxed. She’d never felt so shattered, so fulfilled, so... restless and aroused. Long and thick and hard, he pressed against her leg. She wanted him inside her. Now.
Gripping his hair in her fists, she pulled him up. “We’re not done.
“We’re not even halfway there yet.”
Moving over her, he began the slide into her, inch by heavenly inch. Smooth and hard, he pushed inside, delving impossibly deep, to her very center. The center of her body and soul.
“Wait,” she ordered. “Wait.” She savored the moment, reveled in the triumph.
He rocked against her.
“Mmmm.” She lifted her hips and tilted up
ward. “I love the feel of skin against skin.” She hugged her legs around his hips to hold him close, pulling him deeper inside.
“Me, too.” His breath tickled the ear he nibbled. He lifted his head, smiling his pleasure.
Their eyes met, and she read first the soul-deep satisfaction and then the blaze of alarm. They stiffened at the same moment. He stopped mid-stroke.
“Skin against skin?” he ground out between clenched teeth. “Christ, I’m sorry, I forgot.”
“We have to stop!” She prayed for an alternative. Hmmm. He was already in place. They’d moved past the moment of no return for safety’s sake, both pregnancy-wise and health-wise. Maybe if he pulled out before…
He dropped his forehead against hers. With what seemed like superhuman effort, he levered his shoulders upward. She noticed his hips didn’t follow. “Maybe if I...”
“No!” She couldn’t let them think that way even if every hormone in her body screamed for her to lock her ankles together, tighten the muscles that sheathed him, and thrust against him, again and again.
He was a man of vast experience. No telling what he’d been exposed to. She taught sex education classes, for God’s sake. They were currently in violation of rule number one. She knew the risks, she knew better than to take chances, for any reason, even if this one time seemed worth it. Even if the damage had already been done.
“I’m healthy,” he said, kissing the side of her neck.
“Me, too, but we have to stop.” She removed her hands from his shoulders and clenched them into fists at her sides to keep from securing him in place.
“You’re right.” The torturous withdrawal began. He eased himself out of her with prolonged agony. Her every heartbeat, every breath raised its own protest until the final whoosh of separation left her bereft. Empty. Cheated. Frustrated.
Her thoughts raced. How close was the nearest convenience store? Five miles? Seven? Would it be open now? What else could they use? Plastic wrap? The finger of a latex glove?
He hovered over her a second longer, pressing a kiss on her mouth that tasted like regret. “Damn.” Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he reached for his jeans. “I’m sorry.”
Oh, no! Is he leaving? A disappointed groan escaped her.
“I know what you mean.” Dylan stroked her nest of curls before pulling a small packet from his pocket. “Hang on a second. I’ll be right back.”
“You’ll be right back?” she asked, ready to kick up her heels and dance around the room.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t prepared. I said I forgot.”
Hurray! He had a condom! “Hurry!”
He palmed his erect cock and wasted no time in suiting up. When he lay on his back and she climbed on board, Gracie experienced the overwhelming sense of coming home.
“Aahhh.” He pushed all the way inside. “Just as good as before.”
She didn’t understand it. That layer of latex normally lessened the pleasure dramatically. For some reason, this time it didn’t.
He steadied her hips against his, holding her firmly as she tested his control, withdrawing a little and thrusting again. His gaze darkened with intensity. His concentration focused as he moved to caress her breasts and graze her nipples with her thumbs.
“Go for it,” he said. “I’ll stay with you as long as I can.”
She rode him long and hard, setting a demanding pace, hard and fast, pushing deep, rocking against him. He matched her rhythm as the tension built and built.
His face became taut and his chest slick with sweat before he bucked with the intensity of his release. With the eruption of his desire, he threw back his head and gritted out her name. “Now, Gracie, now.”
She didn’t just come, she soared. She didn’t just soar, she floated among the stars.
Relaxing her arms, she sank down against him. He wrapped an arm around her and locked her in place. “Now we’re done,” he mumbled. “I can die a happy man.”
A smile curved his lips as he drifted into sleep.
Too stunned to sleep, Gracie examined the moment. What in the world had she been thinking? She had wanted him, but nothing in her past had prepared her for the gift he had given her. Where she had wanted warmth, she got blazing passion. Where she had wanted closeness, she got fusion. Where she had wanted a moment of forgetfulness, she got the memory of a lifetime.
And it wasn’t as if she’d never had an orgasm before. Of course, she had. But Dylan had savored her like Godiva chocolate. He had lapped and nibbled, licked and sucked. Comparing the orgasms she’d had before to the one—two!—she’d had tonight would be like comparing the pop of a firecracker to the explosion of dynamite.
He shifted to his side, wrapped his arm around her middle, and pulled her close. She turned to find him wide-awake and staring at her with a sexy, tender, almost arrogant smile. Normally she would have slugged him for the arrogance, but tonight he had every right to it. If he hadn’t been the one to actually invent sex, then surely he should look into patenting his personal variations.
She would never settle for less again. Of course, how would she know if she were settling until too late? Men didn’t come with ratings tattooed on their foreheads, worst luck. She doubted the social acceptability of asking them if they were as good in bed as Dylan Bradford. Besides, they’d just lie.
His interest in her was surely a short-lived phenomenon. A delayed reaction, a response to a rush of adrenaline. One of those embracing life after a death-defying experience, with a dash of that old opposites-attract concept thrown into the mix.
He probably looked on her as an aberration, too. She could imagine how different she was from the other women he knew. Once he went back to New York, he’d forget all about her and—Oh, damn! He was going back to New York tonight!
She might never have this opportunity again.
If she wanted to have him again, it would have to be now. Endorsing Dylan’s new rule of never putting off until tomorrow, she reached a hand out to touch him.
Good, he was hard already.
Chapter Twenty
The combination of doggie breath and wet tongue pulled Dylan from a sound sleep. Turning away from MacDuff’s enthusiastic greeting, he smiled at the sight of Gracie snuggled against his other side.
Dylan buried his head in the crook of her shoulder and breathed deeply of her tangy-sweet scent. As he moved to caress her silky smooth skin, he stilled, realizing he had violated his hard-and-fast rule about never spending the night in someone else’s bed.
Although he used the excuse that he didn’t want to risk having some paparazzi catch him with his pants down, the truth was he didn’t like raising false hopes about his intentions. And so far, the only intention he’d ever had was to move on with as much speed and with as little resentment from his partner, as possible.
So this was new, waking up in a bed not his own with a woman beside him. And not just a woman, but Gracie. And hadn’t she turned out to be more than he’d fantasized? So warm and real and exciting.
And her body! Soft, round, voluptuous. No sharp angles or bony limbs. Nothing artificially enhanced, tattooed, or pierced. Even the curls between her legs were an au naturale wonder in his world where all the women were waxed, shaved, or shaped.
Personal grooming aside, he loved the unbridled interest and energy she focused on everything from the simplest kiss to making love all night long. What she lacked in experience, she made up for in enthusiasm. And sweetness and ingenuity and curiosity.
What could be better than that?
What could be worse?
He couldn’t believe she had so made him lose his head that he’d forgotten to use protection. That had never happened to him before. Never.
Grandfather, Uncle Arthur, even his mother had preached the sermon about safe sex and unplanned children since he was old enough to know where babies came from. No matter how tempting or innovative the partner, he’d never gone diving without a wetsuit before. What was it about Gracie that made
him recklessly discard responsibility?
The answer that sprang to mind made him squirm.
His breathing grew labored and the walls of the bedroom started closing in around him. He’d better get out of here and back over to the B&B before he forgot his lousy track record for making commitments.
As he slid his arm out from under her, she turned her head and smiled drowsily. He stopped to return her smile. A rosy blush bloomed on her cheeks, and he brushed a kiss across one and then the other. He nibbled his way to her mouth.
Damn, he had zero control where she was concerned.
Amid the rest of the apartment’s swirling colors, her bed linens were pure white. Gracie’s vivid coloring stood out in the unrelieved starkness like a painter’s palette next to a blank canvas. Pink cheeks, flashing brown eyes, creamy complexion. Copper highlights shot through dark tresses that spiraled wildly across her pristine pillow.
“Gracie.” Her virginal sheet dipped, and his gaze wandered to her breasts. He ordered his twitching cock to back off while he said his piece. The sooner he got this over with, the less she’d be hurt. “Babe, I’ve got to go.”
“I know.” Gracie nodded, bright-eyed and cheerful as ever. “You’ve got plenty to do today before you leave.”
“Right.” He studied her with a wary eye. “I’ll need to go by the cabin and speak to the fire marshal, call the insurance company, and let Uncle Arthur know what happened, too.” He checked the time while he recited his schedule. “The game starts at eight. If I want to be in New York in time to see Natalie and Josh, and then take care of a few things before the tip-off, I need to head out.”
“Sure,” she agreed as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
Relief washed through him. She would be Gracie to the end, practical and well organized, with none of the clinging or scheming he’d experienced with other women. Why that thought didn’t make him ecstatic, he didn’t know.